Riding The Wave

Before the word “recession” became a part of our daily vocabulary, I sold my wonderful four-bedroom home on five acres of land and bought a cheap portable camper to park along a remote stretch of beach off the Oregon coast. It sounded quite romantic in my head: The newbie writer shucking away the cast of his dull mid-grade profession to pursue his real passion. I didn’t know at the time that in my quest to pen the next Great American novel I would spend the bulk of my days watching the sun bouncing off the pristine Pacific Ocean, day in and day out. Even when I turned my back to it, I knew that it was still there taunting me about my writing. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a wonderful sight to behold. The problem I have is that after some time it hits you that it is the onlysight.

Aside from coming up with the perfect intro to my literary “masterpiece” and jagging off to my stash of sexy masculine hairy men’s magazines, there wasn’t much else to do except for drawing the occasional erect phalluses in the sand and the sad attempt to go fishing out in the ocean. Other than that, I was constantly plotting my return to civilization—after I got my bestselling novel under way.

I was quite happy with the first few pages once I found my rhythm. Yet it was just enough to convince me to pack up my things and leave, find a job and rent a room until I could buy me another house minus the acreage.

I was getting ready to pull out just shy of dawn when my eyes caught this thick-haired chub making his way out to the water with a surfboard under his arm. I knew nothing about surfing, but he looked pretty damn amazing down there in his wet suit, going up and down the huge waves like a sturdy tugboat.

Before I knew it, three hours had flown by. He emerged from the surf for the day. I tried to work up the nerve to go talk to him before he bolted towards his truck. Being so far removed from guys and civilization numbed some of my signature bravado moves to get some of the “straightest” of men on their back and grabbing their ankles in less than a few hours. So, it brought a nice, pleasant surprise to my eyes, seeing him come my way.

“Great day, ain’t it?” the burly chub shouted.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Not bad. Looks like you were holding your own out there.”

“I try.” He smiled, bowing his head, and then reached over and officially introduced himself. “The name is Cole.”

“Don.”

Cole was a solid man of average height with a slight belly and tendrils of a brown beard that made him look like Father Time before he went gray. He could’ve gotten away with looking like an older man had it not been for the hopeful twinkle in his eye ready to spill a different story.

“Nice meeting you,” Cole said, stepping back. “Is that your dig back there?”

“Yeah,” I droned, stopping myself from wanting to tell him my life story, especially the part of how I came from up on the social ladder there to down here in the seaweeds. “It’s temporary.”

“It shouldn’t be. It looks like you got everything a man really needs. A place to lay your head and a place to get your head laid!”

“I guess you’re right.” I chuckled.

There was a slight pause that grew between us as I tried to quickly to think of something to say. He almost beat me to the punch when I gazed into his eyes and saw that he was hoping I would.

“You’ve been out there for a while?” I said, while screaming in my head “you stupid stupid fuck!”

“Yeah,” Cole sighed.

“Wanna beer…or are you not old enough to drink?”

“Sure.” Cole perked up, laughing.

“I know you’re sure. I want to know if you’re old enough.”

“Thirty-seven is legal elsewhere.”

“Thirty-seven, huh…that still breast milk on the breath, man?”

“Oh, yeah, and how old are you, Grandpa?”

“That’s the granddaddy of them all to you,” I winked, “and the age is forty-two.”

“Aw.” Cole grinned, throwing up his hands before pulling them in and bowing. “O great wise booger-picker to my zygote.”

“There is a lot of wisdom to it, especially with my five-year head start.” I laughed, leading him back to my camper.

“Oh, whatever, man.”

The short walk was shrouded in subtle laughter.

“Here’s home. Hope the trip over wasn’t too long a journey for you,” I said, attempting not to be such a cornball by laughing at my own jokes.

“Yeah, it was. Thirty paces in this sand is like crossing the Sahara from Morocco to Egypt.” Cole offered sarcastically.

“Should’ve bought you a camel, then,” I said opening the door for him to enter my abode.

“Piggybacking on you with a canteen in tow would’ve been just fine.”

“Excuse the mess,” I said. “I wasn’t expecting the Good Prince of Waves to be in my presence today.”

“Prince?”

“Yeah. I thought I told you I wasn’t old enough to be king.”

“I thought you were going to say there can only be one king of the castle.”

“That, too.” I beamed back.

Cole sat right down at my table as I fetched a couple of bottles of beer from the mini fridge.

“Oh, the good stuff,” Cole beamed back, inspecting the imported bottle.

“Of course, man.”

“To a prince.” Cole tipped his bottle, tapping mine as I sat down.

It was at that moment I thought about many of my unmentionables scattered around the camper, from the porn to the porn comics to the porno magazine and other porn paraphernalia that wasn’t yet in plain view.

“Nice place, man,” Cole said, interrupting my thought.

“Huh? Yeah, thanks.”

“I see you get them drunk here, lay ‘em there, and let ‘em use the bathroom on their way out?”

“Nah.” I grinned. “I get them laid and drunk in the bedroom. There’s a whole ocean out there for them to piss in.”

“What brought you to bring your home out here?”

“Writing.” I said.

“Oh, you’re a writer?”

“Wannabe…just like you wannabe surfer.” I winked. “I kid, of course. You were great out there!”

“Yeah.” Cole smiled. “I’ve been a wannabe for years. Oregon’s got a great surf.”

“Oh, I just thought you were too lazy to go down to California.”

“No, just too ‘voluptuous’ for the California surf.” Cole chuckled.

“’Voluptuous’ is right down my alley. I’m a little ‘voluptuous’ myself,” I said, patting my burgeoning paunch.

“I don’t know. You look pretty good to me.” Cole said coyly.

“Thanks. I was thinking the same thing myself.” I said, giving a lingering stare while taking a long sip of my beer.

“What?”

“I was thinking you would look even more so coming out of that damn wet suit.”

“Is that a come-on, Don?” Cole asked, shaking me out of my calm by being so calm.

“Only if you want it to be.” I sharply replied.

“I don’t know you, man.”

“Like I said before, the name is Don,” I said with my strong grin turning into a nervous smirk. “I was just fucking with you. Enjoy your beer…wannabe.”

We sat there and drank our beers in silence, feeling the camper fill with thick sexual tension. Though getting shot down wasn’t part of my vocabulary, it didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. My ego was still in check because I did have a chance to score once I joined the ranks of society again.

“Thanks for the beer, man,” Cole said, tossing his beer into the trash and walking out the door.

It couldn’t have been a good minute before I heard a knock at my door. Slightly bummed by my rejection, I answered the door with a chip on my shoulder, wondering what the fuck he had to say now.

I opened the door, and there was Cole standing on my step in his hairy birthday suit with a stout hard-on curving back to the ocean.

“I was just fucking with you, too.” Cole licked his chops as I allowed him to climb back into the camper.

I pulled him in by his knob, bringing him in for a kiss before moving my hands around to his hard fleshy buttocks.

“Damn,” I mouthed between breaths. “I’ve been wanting to do this all morning long.”

“And I’ve wanted to do this,” Cole added helping me out my clothes.

Once he helped me get out of them, Cole fell to his knees taking my dick into his mouth. He swallowed my entire length to the pubes, showing me his capable talent before settling down on the head, swishing what was left of my retracting foreskin around his mouth.

“To think you were ready to walk from all this.”

Cole hummed something sweet on my dick in his mouth.

“Never that, man,” Cole added with a loud pop out of his mouth after tickling my pubes with his nose again.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the ride, allowing him to suck me slow and deep inch by thickened inch. I wasn’t getting off on his head game as much as I was increasing the other leg of his training. Cole could deep-throat. Cole just couldn’t breathe around my dick. Not through his mouth, at least, as he would gurgle if I held my dick there too long.

“A mouthful, huh?”

“MMMmmmphf,” he groaned over my dick, followed by his gag reflexes.

“Breathe,” I commanded, “yeah.”

I fucked his mouth metrically, grabbing his ears, forcing him to consider breathing through his nose with my low-hanging balls bouncing against his rounded chin.

Cole got the point after a while, and I was about to get off slowly on the sound of my dick sloshing around in his mouth before I thought otherwise. It was a way to spend my load, but not the best way, being that it had been quite a while since I’d been with another real-life man.

“Let’s take this over to the bed.” I said pulling out of his mouth.

We made it over to the bed. I had him lie down as I straddled his face with my dick proud and my ball sac hanging low. Cole didn’t need any more instruction as to what to do next, licking and sucking a popping my balls in and out of his mouth with the right kind of pressure that had me oohing and aahing like I never had it so good before. The lethal combination of his wet mouth and callused hands working me over cause me to scooch forward by accident, putting my taint in his face.

He tongued that, too, urging me to move forward so he could tongue my hole. I was reluctant. I wasn’t one of those guys who was afraid to get my asshole played with for fear that it somehow was going to make me gayer. I was certified gay. Masculine, but proud and gay just the same. I just had this crazy fetish when a face found itself in my crack that I had a habit of wanting to explore, something that most men found somewhat difficult to understand.

I was so lost in thought that Cole was able to scooch me forward even more and found his face tonguing my sweet spot. Teasing me and torturing me with his long skillful tongue as I bounced around his face to show me how bad he wanted to rim me out. He was an ass man who loved to use his tongue. The kind that got off on eating out ass like it could have been an all-day buffet, tongue-drilling deep like it was taking up a second residence.

His mouth was powerful. His tongue and his lips coming together to make me squirm on his face. I was feeling all sorts of ways, pleasured and mildly ashamed for feeling this way with something this good up my dick-virgin man-hide.

I was so caught up in breathing and trying to hold some kind of decorum with that tongue thumping my prostate that the words just accidentally escaped my mouth. “Dig that nose up in that hairy ass.”

Cole scooched forward. After a few minutes, he skillfully replaced his elongated tongue with his aquiline nose. I think the ease he was able to slip so much of it in at once freaked us both out, especially me, but he had eaten me out so long that I was wet on top of being wet with his spit.

“Ah,” I groaned, slowly riding his face and jacking my dick. “Smell my fucking scent.”

I thought he was trying to get out of my ass, but it quickly became obvious he was trying to get his nose deeper in my fleshy mounds.

“Oh, fuck, yeah, man,” I growled louder on this unusual human butt plug.

I hate to admit it, but Cole had me moaning like a little bitch a few minutes later when he took it upon his fingertip to twist my nipples.

I was so lost in the moment of euphoria and had so little control over the sound in my intestines that I ended up passing gas right in his face, or to be more direct, right up his nose.

I slowed down. I didn’t stop, not knowing if he was appreciated being introduced to my fetish of releasing my funk up his nose.

“There’s that stink.” Cole beamed with his words bringing me back to my stride. “Give me that funky stink…give me some more to smell.”

My hole clipped his nose and released a symphony of farts right up his nose. I think he loved it more than I loved him, which was saying a helluva lot for the situation at hand.

“Sniff it—take it all in, boy. Ride that wave!” I said for effect because he certainly didn’t need any encouragement the way he was snorting it up like it was the best illegal drug on the planet.

“I can’t hold off much longer. Your nose in this stankin’ ass…this dick is about to explode, man. Ahh! Ohhh! Dammit! Shit! Ahhh, fuckkk!”

I was riding his face and jacking my dick like a piston, close to losing it and wanting to know where I should shoot my load. I was diplomatic in releasing a few more farts up his nose to remember me by before pulling off it, shooting my thick nut in and across his nostrils rather than the intended target: his lips.

The first jet of cum was thick. The second and third was like a continuous stream that just wouldn’t stop with Cole tweaking my nipples, draining every little drop out of me.

I wanted to suck his dick to thank him for helping me get off with one of my favorite things to do. Even though his dick was still hard, it looked as if he came long before I did.

“I’m easy, man,” he grinned as I looked down at the load dribbling down his stubby dick. “You had me during the whole fart concert.”

I smiled. “You like that?”

“Fuck, yeah. I was hoping to get some chili cheese dogs and some onion rings down your throat and go at it again.”

“You want the full experience, huh?”

“Absolutely, man.”

I was finally inspired to write the intro to my novel.

 

It felt like I was farting in his face.